Serendipity
by Darthanne
Summary: Quatre is a disgruntled teacher, but his last pupil for the day brings an unexpected surprise. (3x4, 2xH, AU)


Serendipity

By Anne Olsen

Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sunrise and Sotsu Agency. I promise to return when I'm finished, honest. 

Archive: http://www.angelfire.com/ab7/shadesandechoes

Thanks to: Bast for the beta reading and giving it the once over, and Maureen for telling me not to ignore the muses and write the damned thing. 

Feedback to anneo@paradise.net.nz

*******

Remind me again why I decided to become a teacher. I entered this profession full of enthusiasm, with elevated ideas of sharing my talent with the next generation, showing them the wonders of the 'music' of the universe. 

Hah. 

I'm only in my early twenties and I'm already disillusioned with life. When _I _was younger, and yes it seems almost a lifetime ago, I thought I had my life all mapped out in front of me. Meet the right person, settle down into domestic bliss and teach. It was a good plan at the time except for one slight problem. My father. Or rather his reaction to my sexual preferences. 

I'd noticed as I'd hit puberty I wasn't interested in girls like my small circle of friends were. Maybe I'm just a late starter, I figured, hanging onto that idea even though Duo teased me incessantly. But then that's Duo, he may tease but when things go wrong he's still there for you. 

He gave me a place to stay when Father threw me out of the house after college and cut me off without a penny. Duo was angry about Father's attitude, and offered to go and 'sort him out' if I'd wanted him to. He's the type of friend who would do anything for you, and I love him dearly for it. 

I lived with him for a while, but decided it was better to find a place of my own when it became obvious my presence was interfering with his pursuit of his girlfriend, now his wife, Hilde. 

Part of me feels jealous of their life together. Bitter and twisted, that's me, especially on days like today. I still know what I want in life, the dream of settling down with the right person hasn't changed although I've changed from the romantic I once was to a total cynic. True romance, love at first sight and the ilk doesn't exist except for in fairy stories. 

Ironic really. My father threw me out because I admitted to him I was gay, but I've never been in a relationship. I've never even had another man give me a second glance…

*****

Quatre cringed as the young boy played yet another wrong note. He leaned over, pointing to the key signature on the music propped up on the piano. "See that? It means that all the F's are sharp. And we know what a sharp is don't we, Peter?"

"Yes, sir."

"Would you like to tell me?" Quatre bit down on his lower lip, fighting the urge to scream. Every lesson they went through this. Was the child just incapable of learning or did he just not want to?

"Ummm…" There was a moment's silence while the light bulb inside Peter's head went through the motions of what passed for thought. "It means that we play the nearest note to the left, doesn't it, Mr Winner?"

__

God, help me. Quatre spoke slowly and clearly, gripping his pencil so tightly he wouldn't be surprised if it snapped in half. Stay calm. _Deep breaths and I'll get through this. _Only five more minutes and his dad will be here to pick him up. Why oh why did he have to have these pupils on a Friday?

"The nearest note to the right, Peter. You know which is your right hand, yes?"

Peter obediently held up his left hand and nodded. "This one, Mr Winner."

Quatre made a small choking noise, which fortunately the boy didn't notice. "Remind me again how you got honours for your last theory exam?" 

"I studied hard, Mr Winner." And promptly forgot everything you learnt as soon as you wrote the last note on the stave. _I. Will. Get. Through. This._ Even sarcasm was lost on this child. Amazing really considering who his parents were. Maybe it was time to inform them that their son, genius though he was, just wasn't cut out for a career in music. 

Several loud knocks came from the direction of the front door, and Quatre excused himself with a sigh of relief. Hopefully Duo had come to pick up his son early, to cut short the torture he was inflicting on his best friend. How did you tell the person who had always been there for you, who had supported you through the worst times of your life that his son was an idiot? Quatre corrected himself. No, the boy wasn't an idiot, he just was never going to be a pianist even if his life depended on it. Poor Duo. He'd been so excited when little Peter had first picked out the notes to Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. It was the shame that tune was basically the extent of that so called talent.

Quatre pulled open the door, trying to ignore the discordant sounds coming from the other room. "Play F sharp with both hands, Peter," he called out, unable to take any more. Was it so hard to play with both hands? F sharp and F natural together didn't quite have tonal quality he needed in his current state of mind. 

"Sorry I'm early, Mr Winner." Kathleen Bloom reached out her hand, and pushed the man with her through the door. "Uncle Trowa is staying with us, and he promised to come hear me play. Is that okay?"

Is that okay? _Pull yourself together, Quatre, you're drooling._ To say that her uncle was gorgeous would be an understatement. He stood at near six foot, a good three inches taller than Quatre, his green eyes reminiscent of the Welsh hills where he'd spent his holidays last year. He'd lost himself in those hills, feeling relaxed in ways he hadn't in what seemed like forever, and now…

"Sorry to intrude, Mr Winner, but Kathleen was kind of insistent. I can wait in the car instead, if you feel uncomfortable with me being here." Quatre placed one hand casually on the wall, as he felt his legs turn to jelly. That voice. Even, calm and oh so soothing. 

"No it's not a problem." Quatre heard himself answer as though from a distance. "And the name's Quatre. No need to be so formal." Oh God, he was flirting. He waited for the floor to swallow him up then and there, then decided when it didn't, fate might be smiling on him for once in his life. At least for this afternoon, anyway. After all it wasn't as though he was ever going to see the guy again, was it?

"Trowa Barton." Quatre took the proffered hand, noticing the long fingers, the firm grasp, the slight way his mouth turned up at the edges. 

"Mr Winner, can I go now?" As the loud high pitched voice called out from his seat at the piano, Quatre wondered for a moment whether Duo would really miss his son if something happened to him. He sighed. Maybe it was time to give Duo the sad facts about Peter's musical career or lack thereof?

He led the way into the small room he was using for teaching, and turned his attention back to his current pupil as Trowa and Kathleen settled themselves on the small sofa. "Yes, I think that's it for today, Peter." He finished the lesson with the words he used every week - although he often wondered why he bothered. "What are we going to do this week?"

"Practice, Mr Winner." The boy sounded so sincere, it was hard not to want to believe him. Hilde had told him Peter practiced for half an hour every day, but he'd yet to see any proof. 

As if on cue, there was a knock at the door. Quatre helped Peter gather his books together, as a familiar figure poked his head around the corner. "Sorry, Cat, the door wasn't locked. Hope ya don't mind." Duo ran his eyes around the room, a grin forming as he noticed Trowa. "Hi there, name's Duo Maxwell. The squirt over there's my son, Peter. How's it going, Katheen?"

"Fine, Mr Maxwell. This is my Uncle Trowa. He's come to watch my violin lesson today."

Duo nodded, the twinkle in his eyes suggesting his mind was shifting into overdrive. "Cat's a good teacher, watch and learn." He turned to Quatre and winked. "If you guys don't mind I just need a quick word. That okay, Quatre?"

Quatre blushed, having a inkling of what that word might entail. "Yeah, sure," he said. "Kathleen, set up your violin. I won't be a minute. We'll go a couple of minutes longer at the other end to make up the time. If that's okay with your uncle, of course."

Trowa gave him a small smile, and Quatre's grip tightened on Peter's music books. _I wonder if he knows how much that smile lights up his face,_ he thought, fighting the urge to jump him right then and there. 

"Fine with me. We're in no hurry, are we?" Trowa flicked the clasps on the small instrument case and started rosining his niece's bow for her, as Quatre followed Duo to the door. 

"Go ahead to the car, Pete. I'll be there in a minute." Duo waited until his son was out of earshot then turned to Quatre. "God, Cat. He's hot. You going to make a move or what?"

Quatre glared at him, motioning him to keep it down. The last thing he needed was for Trowa to overhear. "He's either married, straight, or both, knowing my luck," he groused. "Is this where I remind you of Hilde, your lovely wife waiting for you at home?"

Duo grinned. "Hey I might be married but if I stop looking I might as well be dead. Besides Hilde knows I'm bisexual. She has no problems with me eyeing up the scenery although I have no doubt as to her reaction if I tried touching."

Quatre matched his grin. "Something about the continued welfare of your sexual organs from what I remember." Hilde and Duo were a good match. She knew exactly how to keep her husband under control, not a task for the weak willed, and Duo loved her for it. 

"So you going to make a move?" One of Duo's other endearing trait was his bluntness, followed closely behind by dogged persistence. Quatre knew he'd be on the phone first thing wanting details. 

"I can't make any promises. You know I'm no good at these things." 

Duo rolled his eyes. "You don't want to end up a bitter old bachelor. Sometimes you've got to make use of life's opportunities when they hand themselves to you on a platter."

Quatre blushed and pushed his friend towards the front gate. "I still have a pupil to teach. Go home. Now." He hurried back inside, deliberately not taking notice of the rude sign Duo made as he left. How the hell was he going to get through this lesson now?

"Everything okay?" asked Trowa, glancing up from his position on the couch. Sandy, the kitten was fast asleep on his lap, his fingers absently running through her fur as he turned his attention to the by now very flustered music teacher. 

"Fine, thanks," Quatre mumbled in reply, tearing his eyes away from the cat with some difficulty. Sandy had never taken to anyone this quickly before. His sister had once told him cats could sense whether a person was kind hearted. Or worth pursuing, his hormones helpfully added. 

He took Kathleen's violin from her and ran the bow against the strings, checking the tuning. "Uncle Trowa tuned it for me before we came," she explained. 

"He's done a very good job," Quatre told her. "It's perfectly in tune. What instrument do you play, Trowa?" Presuming he played one at all. Quatre crossed his fingers. With those hands, it would be a crime if he didn't.

"Flute." Thank you, God. He was a musician to boot. _Please please don't have a girlfriend. _

"Maybe we could play a duet sometime." _I don't believe I just said that. _He'd done it now. How could he have been so forward? Quatre turned around, busying himself with finding the page of music Kathleen had been working on during her last lesson as he tried to ignore how hot the room had suddenly become. 

"I'll look forward to it." Quatre flipped through the book quickly, almost tearing the pages, as he tried to keep his hormones under control. 

Yes. 

Yes. 

Yes. 

A duet could just be a duet. _It doesn't mean he's interested as in 'interested'._ The blond allowed himself another glance in Trowa's direction as Kathleen began to play the bowing exercise. 

Trowa's eyes were twinkling, his lips turned up in a minute smirk; as though he knew the effect he was having and enjoying it. No. Quatre wasn't even going to entertain the thought that the other man might be leading him on. Even if it would serve him right, if he were, after the way he'd been so obviously drooling since his arrival. 

"Use more pressure on the bow. This passage needs to be forte, not mezzo forte." Time to get back to the task at hand. Catherine Bloom wasn't paying him good money to spend valuable lesson time ogling her brother. 

The next fifteen minutes were the longest in Quatre's life. He'd never had so much trouble focusing on music before. For so many years it had been the one constant in his life, the only thing he'd ever been able to lose himself in. Now everything reminded him of the man sitting watching from the couch. 

Kathleen's fingers on the strings made him imagine Trowa's fingers making music on his flute. He'd pulled himself up when his mind had started imagining what those fingers would feel like on his skin, through his hair, stroking his…

"You okay, Mr Winner?"

"Yes, thank you, Kathleen. Play me that passage with the left hand pizzicato again. The notes need to go at the same speed as the rest of the piece." Kathleen gave him a huge smile, then to Quatre's horror gave her uncle a large wink. He wasn't that obvious, surely?

As he picked up his own instrument to demonstrate, Quatre noticed, with relief that Trowa was intently studying the kitten on his lap. Hopefully he _hadn't_ noticed. 

"Thanks for the lesson, Mr Winner. See you again next week." Thankfully the rest of the lesson went quickly, Quatre finding it easier to concentrate if he just pretended he and his pupil were the only ones in the room. 

"See you next week," Quatre watched her pack up her violin and headed for the door. "I hope you enjoyed the lesson, Trowa. Your niece is a very promising musician."

Trowa nodded. "I'm fully aware of my nieces' talents. Thank you for putting up with my presence." 

__

Putting up? 

Quatre sighed.

"Any time." Day or night, preferably both. 

He watched them leave, then went into his small kitchen to make a strong cup of coffee. As a rule he didn't usually drink caffeine, but after this he needed it. As he waited for the jug to boil, he sat down at the table and put his head in his hands. What an idiot. He couldn't have been more obvious if he'd tried. He'd be lucky if he ever saw Trowa again. What the hell was he going to tell Duo?

The door banged again. _Sheesh, Duo, at least give me a chance to recover before you come back to see how I got on._ Quatre opened the door, ready to give his friend an earful. "Duo…"

And stopped mid sentence.

"Trowa?" The other man seemed apologetic, and somewhat embarrassed. 

"I wanted to apologise for earlier."

__

Huh? "I'm the one who should be apologising. I don't normally behave like that. I'm sorry if I offended you in any way." Quatre studied Trowa intently, waiting for the reaction that would signal the end of all his hopes and dreams. 

Trowa coughed. "My niece fancies herself as something of a match maker. She's been singing your praises to me ever since I arrived on Monday and when Cathy's car wouldn't start earlier, she couldn't get me here fast enough."

Matchmaker? Did that mean what he thought it did? "Oh." How had Kathleen known he'd be interested in her uncle? He'd always kept his sexual preferences a secret, the only other people who knew were Duo and Hilde. His mind went back to a month ago when Kathleen had forgotten one of her books. She'd returned later for it, interrupting a conversation he'd been having with his friend. He'd hoped she'd hadn't overheard any of the conversation as Duo had been commenting, in his normal loud tone, about the small size of the dating pool for gay men in their town. 

Duo, the matchmaker at heart. 

Quatre groaned. "Duo." 

Trowa nodded. "Two matchmakers accidentally finding they have a common quest. From what Kathleen's told me, they've been egging each other on."

"Your sister's car?" Duo was a mechanic and a damn good one. He wouldn't have…."He didn't?"

Trowa shook his head. "_He_ didn't. He told Kathleen what to do…" He paused for a moment. "Quatre?"

"Yes?"

"Cathy's just come and taken Kathleen home. And…" 

"What?" Tell me you want to come in. Please

Trowa rolled his eyes. "My car won't start…"

******

Ten years later and I'm still teaching. Only difference is my life is back on track. I have the domestic bliss I've always wanted. Life with the right person is worth waiting for. 

I turn over in bed, content to watch Trowa sleeping, worn out from the love making of the small hours of the morning. Ten years later and I still react the same way to his presence as I did when he came to Kathleen's music lesson.

I still haven't made up with my father, but now it doesn't matter. I have my lover, and I have my friends. Of course Duo denies he had anything to do with Trowa's car breaking down at that very convenient point in time, but I don't believe him.

It took quite a while for help to arrive, and by that time we'd decided Trowa was in no hurry to get home. 

I'm not the cynic I used to be either. Funny how finding your soul mate does that to you. Love at first sight does exist, after all. I should know, the proof of it is lying next to me in the bed we've shared for almost ten years. 

Trowa stirs in his sleep, and Serendipity, our current cat wriggles over, miaowing her annoyance at being disturbed. I run my fingers over my lover's face, marvelling not for the first time, his high cheekbones, the way his hair refuses to behave. I've found my refuge, my shelter from the storms in life, and Trowa tells me he's found his too, in me. 

The kitten purrs and settles back into sleep, and I snuggle back against Trowa, as his arm snakes around me automatically, even though he's still asleep.

Duo gave us the cat as an anniversary present, complete with her rather unusual name. I figure it's apt considering the way we got together, if you discount Duo and Kathleen's help. 

Serendipity.

Making unexpected and happy discoveries by accident.

********

~Fin~

__


End file.
